Balin waited quietly, head bowed, until the people at the castle entrance had all dispersed.
Only after Merlin finished his explanation and vanished did he finally raise his head. Tilting his head slightly, he wet his dry lips with his tongue.
“So the High Priest knows the forest path leading to the crossroads?”
It was a phrase most Avalon natives would understand, but to outsiders, the terrain was unfamiliar.
Especially since the Britain envoys had never visited Avalon—no one could be certain which route they would take or how they would arrive.
“Sigh… Even the locals avoid that forest path because it’s dangerous. The mages dump all sorts of strange things there…”
Mostly, they discarded failed magic stones from the Mage Tower into those woods.
Since they were experimental, no one knew what kind of magic might linger—some might suddenly put you to sleep for ages, others might make all your teeth fall out.
Because of that, the townsfolk avoided the path, fearing they’d run into trouble if they wandered in carelessly.
The fact that the Britain delegation was taking such an unused route was highly suspicious. But by the time Balin gathered his wits, he was already on the forest path.
Hiding behind a tree, he muttered as he scanned the area for any passing carriages.
“Well, the High Priest’s prophecies have always been right before. I’ll just take a quick look and leave. Just a quick glance.”
He rubbed his sweaty palms, thinking that if they didn’t show up after a few hours, he’d just turn back.
Clack-clack—
The sound of hooves began echoing through the quiet forest.
Before long, three ornate carriages bearing the royal seal of Britannia passed by.
Startled, Balin gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth.
‘They actually came?’
There was no more time to hesitate.
Swiftly, Balin darted after the carriages, weaving through the dense trees while keeping an eye on the timing.
An Avalon native would recognize and avoid the scattered failed magic stones along the path—but outsiders wouldn’t.
The horses suddenly halted, lifting their front hooves and refusing to go further.
The lead carriage came to a stop, causing the carriages behind to halt one after another. The coachman, seemingly flustered, pulled on the reins to calm the horses.
“Whoa, what’s gotten into them?”
As the horses instinctively sensed danger and stopped upon seeing the magic stones, click—the carriage door opened, and a man with pink hair stepped out.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure, Sir Lancelot. They seem frightened of something…”
Lancelot’s gaze swept over the roadside before he let out a soft chuckle at the sight of the unusually abundant magic stones.
“A kingdom near the Mage Tower has magic stones littering the streets. Who knows what spells might be on them? Clear them away in advance.”
At his command, men who appeared to be knights began disembarking from the carriages behind them.
Lancelot called out to them,
“Don’t let the attendants handle them carelessly and cause trouble. Use your scabbards or tree branches to clear away anything that looks like a magic stone!”
“Yes, Captain!”
With that order, Lancelot picked up his scabbard and began lightly tapping at the stones, pushing them aside.
One of the knights who had stepped out wandered into the woods, searching for a suitable branch.
“Nothing decent around here…”
Seizing the moment, Balin swiftly struck the knight’s nape.
Without a sound, the knight collapsed in one blow, and Balin smirked.
“I may not look it, but I was once the captain of the royal knights in Avalon.”
Though he had spent a long time in prison, his skills hadn’t dulled.
Dressed for an envoy’s mission, subduing a single knight in formal attire was no challenge.
Balin stripped the knight of his uniform and hastily dressed himself in it. The feel of fine fabric after so long—Avalon’s craftsmanship—stoked his fury toward Caerleon.
“Just you wait, Caerleon. I’ll personally bring Avalon to ruin.”
He tightly gripped the dagger he had taken from the child.
Now, to the eyes of others, he would appear as nothing more than a fallen knight. He secured the dagger at his waist to keep it from falling and walked toward the envoy party, holding a tree branch.
One of the other knights, who had been clearing magic stones, tilted his head and asked,
“Medic. What are you doing?”
“Picking up a branch.”
When Balin casually held up the branch he had gathered, the knight sighed without suspicion.
“Ugh, as if we’d know how to use magic when we’re swordsmen. I’m so tense I could die.”
“Relax. Avalon isn’t as impressive as you think.”
“You talk like you’ve been here before.”
The knights’ friendly conversation was faintly visible through the dense trees.
Once the magic stones were cleared, the knights returned to their carriages.
Only then did the horses begin moving again.
Clack—
A black puppet, watching the carriages fade into the distance, clicked its tongue softly.
“Tsk. Even when spoon-fed, they can’t do anything right.”
A small child in a robe stretched a tiny hand over the fallen knight.
Soon, a dark violet energy was sucked into the child’s palm.
At the same moment, the knight’s breath ceased. Outwardly unchanged, the lifeless knight died in the same manner as Lady Isolde.
Pulling the robe’s hood firmly back on, the child muttered while watching the distant Britain carriages shrink into the distance.
“With them like that, I wonder if they’ll even do their jobs properly.”
💫
The Avalon palace was filled with unfamiliar faces.
Morgana, dressed in an extravagant gown, studied her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her long silver hair and exposed shoulders stood out against the golden dress.
Olivia fastened a golden necklace around her neck, chattering away.
“This is my first time inside the royal palace.”
“Mine too.”
“But you attended the coronation, my lady?”
“I fled from the entrance back then, so this is my first time stepping into the hall.”
Oddly, there seemed to be even more visitors now than during the coronation.
Morgana’s gaze flicked briefly to the mirror, scanning behind her. The maids quickly noticed and asked,
“Is there anything you require?”
“Don’t you like the dress? Right now, in the guest waiting room, the finest boutiques and salons in Avalon are standing by with dresses and jewelry.”
The moment Morgana so much as breathed, her maids rushed to her side.
If she so much as hinted at walking barefoot, they were ready to scrub the floors.
Morgana waved her hands with an awkward smile.
“It’s fine! The necklace His Highness gave me is more than enough!”
Kellive made for an excellent shield in turning them away.
At Morgana’s refusal, the attendants couldn’t hide their disappointment.
Instead, Olivia’s gaze grew sharper.
“Leave the young lady to me—I know how to care for her.”
Perhaps fearing her position would be taken by the palace maids, Olivia’s hands became even more meticulous.
Just as the overly ornate comb—more decorative than functional—was running through Morgana’s hair,
a loud voice carried from outside the door.
“Your Highness, what are you doing here? Waiting to escort Lady Morgana?”
“Quiet, Gawain.”
“You could just announce yourself. Why just stand there at the door like—Ow!”
A yelp abruptly cut off Gawain’s booming voice.
Clearly, Kellive had either hit him or covered his mouth—there was no doubt he’d done something.
Morgana sighed at the unmistakable noise and spoke to her maids.
“Tell him to come in.”
Kellive had been waiting outside the door for a while now. He could have just entered, but it seemed he intended to wait silently until Morgana was ready.
“Your Highness, you may enter.”
At Morgana’s instruction, a maid opened the door, and he walked in with a smile, as if he hadn’t just been muffling Gawain.
“Sorry, Morgana. Was that too loud?”
“Were you waiting long?”
“Not at all. I just arrived.”
‘A lie.’
She knew he’d been there since before she even put on her dress.
Why would he waste time waiting like that?
Unable to understand, Morgana rose from her seat and asked,
“I knew you were there the whole time. It’s not your first time escorting me—you could have just come in.”
“Waiting has its own thrill.”
His eyes darkened.
Time was money. If it were Morgana, she would have used that time to examine another herb and calculate its selling price.
With long strides, he approached her as she stood, gently taking her hand as if to escort her, his gaze warm.
On the shoulder of his black formal wear hung a brooch the same color as Morgana’s necklace.
Since Kellive had made it, that wasn’t surprising.
Had it been crafted as a set, or had he simply made it and attached it himself?
Just as the pointless question crossed her mind, Kellive, who had been guiding her, bowed his head.
Leaning close, he whispered in her ear, his voice hushed,
“Because if I wait, I know you’ll always come out to me.”
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